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getindumdums · 8 months

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ROTTMNT X TMNT- How to write around Post-Movie Rise being overpowered

Want to write a rottmnt meet tmnt fic? Well here’s some ideas on how you can write the rise crew with all their powers but still include your 87/03/12 bros in the fight!

1. The Rise Crew are dumbasses.

When you’re turtles that fall for ‘teetlze’, there may be a plan or two where they fall for the silliest of things. Like even a 87 shredder plan right along with the 87 turtles. Or they crave fun and get in a little trouble. Like. IDK. They were doing stunts and crashed into tar pits. Got trapped in the Turtle Tank. Got distracted and are trying to get a weapon that got lodged into concrete/a building out. Or a skateboard out of a tree, and are making the situation way over complicated. Get creative.

Maybe they forgot a mission, or got lost because of a silly reason. Like, they wrestled and fell off a cliff. Maybe down a river. Make Leo get hit too hard and comidically woozy. (Or a tranq dart.) Yeaaaahhhh surrrre. I’ll teleport you guysss… *teleports to France.

Maybe they said they’d meet separately at the beach/fun place. But the 87/03/12 crew get attacked and the Rise crew is just chilling wondering where they’re at. “Oh no! They can’t hear them! The music’s blasting too loud!”

2. The Rise turtles are loud.

Sure they can sneak, but will they? Plus things like to explode after the sneaking. (03/12 tmnt are kind of like this too honestly.) Point is maybe they’re like “All in favor of leaving (The Mad dogs) team behind say Aye.” “Aye.” For a stealth mission. Could add 03/12 Raph wanting to include Mikey in that.

They could be put on ‘support’. Rise Leo’s teleporting could leave to a last second save, Rise Donnie’s pods too (he would probably put trackers in his counterparts as soon as he could, also blood samples). Rise Raph could prevent the building the others are inside from collapsing. Actually all of the Rise crew could catch them from falling to their deaths or hold back a giant enemy’s strike.

3. Put out of Commission.

There’s a couple ways the Rise Crew could get put out of commission that isn’t getting hit too hard. Being temporarily blinded by tear gas (they jumped in first), allowing them to still fight but being the ones reliant on whoever they’re with. Tranquilizers would incapacitate them for like an hour or less. Similarly, getting poisoned with a lethal dose that’d kill the other teams. The way Draxum made them allowing these toxins to be less lethal to them. Magical traps, magic/alien restraints, or captured with the highest/most durable alien tech could also get interesting.

4. Let the Rise Crew take on the Big threats.

Like on how Rise Raph will act like a shield for his bros by taking on the enemies his size, the Rise crew’s focus can be set towards the larger than a building enemies, like (12) Traaq and Granitor, (03) Nano, etc. They could defeat/distract a shredder, attack a technodrome, or handle a way too large foot/Kraang army Leatherhead/03 Triceraton style while the 03/12 team handle the other stuff. Or worse, the Rise crew could fight some of THEIR old enemies.

As strong as the Rise crew are, both 03 and 12 have 12/13 tech/steel that’s very strong and durable. And both are used to defeating threats ‘way out of their league’. The 87 turtles can cleave through ‘technodrome’ mechs like butter. Just something to consider.

5. They are the Big Threat

I’m not the biggest fan of feral Rise. They lean more violent/murdery than in character and small bruising. I love comedy, shenanigans. But that doesn’t mean the Rise crew being brainwashed isn’t a good plot line where the other alternate brothers must save them. From 12’s parasitic wasps, neck brainwashing devices, to 03’s utrom/Baxter Stockman tech: duplicate robots looking/fighting like them, simulations turned violent, you can get a couple ideas from all the shows. Or how about misunderstandings? 03 doesn’t have Krang, but peaceful utroms. The Rise crew might start fighting before learning from 03 crew or the Utroms themselves that they are not a threat.

Bonus, Conflict

I think the 03 and 12 bros might see the Rise crew as another 87 initially. They’re all silly, funny guys that like to dance and party. Including Funny One Donnie. The 87 team and Rise would get along great, thick as (pizza) thieves. Have a way too strong enemy? Well maybe the Rise crew is 87’s plot armor while they fight side by side. 03 would be most responsible (excluding Mikey), and be quick to warm up to the Rise crew. And be willing to train with them, give them advice/lectures. 03 Raph would like Donnie, 03 Leo would like Raph for sure.

It’s the 12 crew that I think they would have the most conflict with, (except Mikey). Instead Rise Mikey kicks him (and 12 Leo, and the 87 crew) violently out of the kitchen, and would just be the most reasonable Mikey. Rise Leo would lead/ partake in shenanigans with anyone willing and switch like a lamp on (at least serious) missions.

The Rise crew are used to listening to Raph, they trust Raph. Maybe they trust 87/03/12 Raph. It’s a bad idea. Maybe Rise Donnie wants to do comically- villain lethal options instead or just argue against the Leo’s’ plans. Like a Raph. Maybe he fist fights 12 Raph. But they become friends after.

Maybe Rise Leo wants to have fun. Maybe he claims to be the cool Leo while secretly wanting to impress the other Leos but 12 Leo hates him. Maybe Donnie claims he’s the cool Donnie but 12 Donnie hates him. Really hates him, with a seething jealousy. Maybe 12 Donnie is plotting murder 12 Casey style. Maybe Rise Donnie loves playing around with weapons with 03 Raph and destroying things with 12/03 Raph.

I just actually like the idea of each of the Rise turtle not getting along with their 12 counterparts. Instead Rise Leo gets along with 12 Mikey via pranks (and Dimension X and how they feel about their place in their team). Maybe 03 Mikey too. Rise Raph gets along great with the the Leos (and Splinter?), leadership and training. Donnie would get along great with the Raphs. I think he and 12 Raph would both think 03 Raph is SUPER cool. And Rise Mikey would get along well with the Donnies being the ‘reasonable’ one of the Rise crew. Rise Mikey I believe helps his Donnie in the lab, steady hands. And probably knows the classical music composers, etc. Maybe Mystic Mike, practicing his magic, is great at meditation, magic, and gets great talks with Splinter. Rise Mikey could finally give 03 Don some therapy. …And maybe any of the other traumatized turtles.

Transversing the multiverse

Is actually easy. Maybe let it be. They could go back and forth, and the real conflict can be the enemies they face/are investigating.

87 has a device from the 12 crossover, and that can just built a device no sweat. 03 still probably has their device from Turtles Forever (unless 87 has it?). 03 has the Daimyo from their battle nexus that can travel dimensions with his staff. 12 has Krang portals. 12 had a magic wand they lost. The Rise crew has Leo and Mikey’s portals and their Donnie. If the others could create bridges so can Rise D. He has the most advanced tech, a comedic-looney tunes logic/4th wall breaking touch like 87, and has pictures of 12 and 87 on his conspiracy board. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. sent a toaster back in time, I’m convinced that Donnie had drafts for a time machine already but the Kaang invasion left alternate-future him with a lack of resources Cass-Apocalypse style, those drafts destroyed with the lair, and/or new prototypes destroyed. Future him Raph a robot body like 12 Don did to himself before something happened that didn’t allow Rise D to make one/be transferred into one for himself. There’s no way Rise Donnie is taking more time to make a portal gun longer than a Turtles Forever movie.

#I have ideas but since it’ll take forever for me to write a fic I’ll share a few of them #rottmnt #tmnt 2018 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 1987 #turtles forever #turtles forever II #get in dum dums notes

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spacepiratenemo · 1 year

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The Biology of Nemo

The Convection-Class: An extremely, extremely rare mutation that occurs only once in a billion! This incredibly rare mutation has been seen only four times in the existence of the lunarian race and whenever one of these little "Luna-Dwarves" had been born, technology and advancement of civilization skyrocketed. Lunarians are often described to be huge. C-Class Mutants often stand at 2 metres of height, which is small for the race, where A-Class tower at 5-6 metres and B-Classes often tower above 2.5 metres. However, a C-Class is entirely void of any physical strength and they often cannot survive on their own. Their bodies can not conjure fire and they won't regenerate any body heat of their own, hence, they need to leech the heat from external sources such as stars. Thermal heat is their main energy provider, therefore they often were jokingly dubbed "fire-parasytes" as well. Naturally so, they are entirely fireproof and it is rumoured that they need these insane amounts of constant "heat-feeding" to support their specific biology, or more specifically, their "neutron" powered brain. Convection-Class Mutants are entirely space-resistant. The vacuum won't warm them, radiation can be an alternative energy-source and heat can be conserved much longer without dissipation through weather conditions such as cold winds.

The biology of Nemo https://www.wattpad.com/1217812098-the-lunarian-guide-to-the-blue-world-engl-vers-3

The alien-guest of the Moby Dick yawned, closed her eyes for only a moment, but, eventually the cosy fire next to her was too much of a comforting source to resist. Nemo was with the Crew for a little over two weeks and during that time, no one had seen her sleep nor rest. Her small head swiftly leaned against the shoulder of the commander of the second division, who looked at the sudden-sleeper with a gentle smile, while stabilising her with one arm to prevent her from falling over. Her body went limp, fully relaxing as a sigh escaped her lightly drooling lips and her mouth cheekily hushed the words, "Alliqui.... Jerk....!".

"FINALLY!", Ben, Nemo's assistant robot, exclaimed jovially.

"Finally?"

"Yes, finally. I haven't seen Boss sleep in over a year. Well, not aside from that one week of involuntary unconsciousness when her body collapsed after her arrival. Thought she'd only get more aggressive if she doesn't take a short rest! Especially since she is stressed about her spaceship and the constant weight on her shoulders." The bot explained, happily hovering around its Boss.

"What do you mean? How can someone not sleep for a year? Weight on her shoulders?", Marco wondered, who noticed the scene as he took care of Pops sitting in his throne.

"Convection-Class Lunarians like Boss do not need sleep. Well, not necessarily, no. However, it is incredibly beneficial to her mental health as well as her overall attitude. So, technically speaking, Boss does not need sleep, but she wants to sleep in order to rest from the constant storm of thought-processing, calculating and controlling differing projects around the solar system."

"Thought-processing? Projects in the solar system? Huh? Sounds rather stressful yes. But... You make it sound like sleep is kinda special to her."

"It is. On an average, humans and living beings like you process up to 70.000 thoughts per day. Boss can process this amount within a nano-second. She does calculate at lightspeed afterall. How else do you think she figured out a Warp-Engine within two years? However, imagine you'd be processing your thoughts at this rate. Of course it doesn't come to a surprise that this uses up incredible amounts of energy. But it also is a constant stressor. You also need to take into consideration her overall physical weakness, hence, she naturally evolved with a prey-instinct. Many mammals only sleep with one eye open. It's necessary, but it also adds stress of course. Hence I recommend that the Boss does sleep at least one hour per week. She refused doing so since she's here though. Too cold. It triggers survival-modes. Energy is used up much faster on this planet, compared to zero gravity in outer space or low gravity on the moon.", Ben explained, opening a holographic screen in mid-air to show a statistical representation of how much energy its Boss was using in the Blue World, compared to her former home. Doing so, it obviously didn't show what Marco had no request-permission for. Her mental health. A massive stressor caused by horrible nightmares and terrible flashbacks...

"Gotcha! You mentioned that, yoi! Thank you for explaining, Ben. I want to help your Boss, but admittedly, I have to study her alien-biology first. I'm still sorry I couldn't figure out that she needed more thermal-energy after her arrival here...". "You were smart enough to use the data of my screen to prevent her from dying and eventually recovering. If her condition would've become any worse or more critical, my operator-mode would have changed and I would have requested thermal energy for her."

"That's good to know. When your Boss ever needs medical help and you can't assist her, don't hesitate to ask me, alright?" Marco smiled, exchanging a caring gaze between Ben and Ace, who slowly lifted the drooling mess of a girl into his arms. "I'll bring her to bed then. Let's not wake her when sleep is that rare and special, shall we?", the young commander quietly said, turning away from the group.

"Aye...! - Oh. By the way, Ben. Your Boss gave me that permission to request medical data from you, aye? Could you explain to me again, how this convection-class-biology works?", the blue Phoenix gave his friend a smile, watching the Blackhair for a moment as he vanished to the rooms downstairs, before turning back to the robot.

"Roger. Roger!" Ben saluted. "A Convection-Class-Lunarian is an incredibly rare mutation that occurs only once in a billion. To my knowledge, in all of Lunarian-History, there were only three occurrences of this specific, rare mutation. Each time a C-Class was born, our advancement of technology skyrocketed massively. Their entire biology is severely different from that of other Lunarians. They are born with incredibly weak bodies but a massive intelligence. In fact, to othe intelligent life, it is simply not comprehensible. There is a mythic rumor, that a C-Class is born in connection with the universe, therefore gaining its knowledge and wit. However, this is very likely nothing but fantasy. There are actual physics behind their biology. They do not need physical strength, as their bodies are made to be space-faring and survive in the vacuum, unaffected by cosmic radiation. In fact, Convection-Classes like Boss can use radiation as yet another energy source! The special blood in her veins moves at incredible speed when it is warm enough. The particles are heated up and more energy is created which her brain then uses up. Her body only needs 0,01% of the energy she feeds on, the rest of all that is sorely to power her brain. Hence the cold is such a danger to her. The particles slow down, energy slowly stands still, molecules nearly freeze in position and not enough energy is created. It gets even worse when we approach negative temperatures. The colder it is, the less particle movement we have until everything will eventually come to a near standstill. This would ultimately lead to a freezing death of the Boss. Convection is technically speaking the chief element in weather technology because it is the process of moving energy of heat according to the movement of heated particles. In Chemistry, when the liquid fluids heat up, the heated elements tend to move faster and rise as it becomes less dense. Whereas the cooler molecules or particles drops down consequently which is denser. The specific mechanisms are usually referred to as convection, thermal radiation, and conduction. It's a shame that Convection-Lunarians weren't granted fusion energy within their bodies. That would create more than enough energy for a long, long, long, long time!"

"This sounds horribly complicated... So let me get this right, in short: Nemo's entire biology is based on energy-convection. But when her blood is moving this fast and creates its own energy, then why does she need to leech it from external sources?" Marco wondered, observing the robot opening more statistical screens to represent its medical explanation.

"Her blood is not like the blood you know, as you may have noticed. Afterall, the internal body temperature of Boss is supposed to be at least 1500 degrees Celsius! In space, this was more than enough to sustain basic functions for days on end. Here? Due to your atmospheric conditions, the increased gravity, weather and multiple other circumstances such as heat dissipation, this thermal-energy is used up much, much faster. Her blood runs cold much, much more quickly. On the moon, there always were about 150 degrees Celsius on thedaylight surface, no atmosphere either. Heat was easily absorbed and when Boss needed a quick little extra, she just caught some from the sun directly. She only avoided shadows and literally had endless energy to spare. Here? That's - very different. There is not enough sunlight and radiation coming through your atmosphere. That's very good for you, because it made life in this world possible. To her, 30 Celsius on your warm summer days feel like a freezing bath! And the more the Boss is freezing, the more energy she needs to send to her body. She gets tired, exhausted, energy dissipates, it's painful, feels like hundreds of nasty needles swung into her skin, really. I do not recommend it!"

"Ouch... Yeah, let's make sure that's not happening. I see... Simply being in our worlds must be tremendously agonising to her." Marco empathised, understanding this alien-biology a little better, while also understanding why Nemo often seemed so aggressive. It came to no surprise to him she snapped easily when she was fighting constant exhaustion.

"Correct. Whereas you are very used and accustomed to your planetary circumstances, to Boss it is a severe muscle training to keep standing on her own feet. Imagine there were tons of extra weight on every cell of your body, and then you are supposed to run? It wouldn't work. But we learned that Boss can use up some of your earthly sugars and proteins to help her build some muscle that might support her body on this planet!"

"Maybe it's just a question of time then? We'll just make sure we'll help her in every way we can. We can lift things for her as well and our kitchen can surely work out a good meal-plan, to help her body get accustomed to our planet!" The Blonde jovially said, positive that he'd be able to help their new alien-friend after all!

"Roger! Roger! I'm positive as well that Boss just needs time to adjust. However, the energy-feeding issue will remain. It is simply too cold here. But we are also working on an external heat-shield. We just gotta find more platinum for the circuits!"

"Well, in the time being, Ace surely has no issue sharing his fire with her. We owe you anyway. You guys dragged his bottom out of Impel Down! But... wait... You said your Bosse's internal temperature is usually 1500 degrees Celsius! How come that she is not setting things ablaze and we don't feel this heat standing next to her? I mean, sure, she feels a little warmer than we do, but she certainly doesn't radiate that much heat? I would've noticed as much when I examined her...", the Phoenix wondered, tilting his head in confusion.

"That's because her skin isolates all that heat inside her body as well. You took her outside temperature, which is usually something around 50-60 degrees Celsius. All of the thermal energy remains inside her body. That's why I warned you to not take a sample of her blood. If you would have done that, you would've only melted the syringe you tried to use to get it. If you want to analyse her blood, you have permission to ask me. I am allowed to share a sample of it." Ben chuckled, saluting again before sharing a screen with the doctor, where he could analyse the blood of Nemo.

"That's incredible! Woah! Wait! Her blood is a little bit like plasma but it's not plasma? What is a superfluid? AHHH! I see, that's how the convection inside her body works! .... Wait? Is this the core next to her heart? That's how she saves up all that energy? That's impressive! Humans like us would die in space within seconds, and to her, that's her natural environment! We would die a most painful and horrible death in a vacuum. Nemo is fully unaffected! We'd die of radiation. How come she is not radioactive if she can use radiation as well?", Marco exclaimed, bursting out in dozens of questions, sitting down before starting to study all the information shared with him. The list of things the doctor wished to know was a long one and small Ben had a lot to answer within the next few hours, while some of the Crew also sat next to the robot, trying to learn about alien-bodies and life in outer space. They also learned a little about other alien species, how different many life-forms in the universe were and how not everything depended on water and oxygen. In fact, it seemed that the basic element of everything seemed to be hydrogen, which Ben stated, was the most common element in the universe.

To be fair. Marco was a doctor, a man of science and very knowledgeble as well. He wasn't specialised in technological science, engineering, quantum mechanics nor physics. He was an expert in the medical field! And to any doctor, having the chance of analysing the genetics of a real alien-visitor, would've been something incredibly exciting! Biology and Chemistry were part of his specialisation, and to learn something that "outer space" was thrilling to say the least!

// If you have questions about Nemo's alien-biology, drop your asks here! <3

#original character #one piece #one piece oc #original fiction #my art #fanfiction #fanfic #space pirates #one piece oc art #my art blog

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lithiumdoll · 9 months

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The Last Dryas

With the completely unfounded optimism that the new year provokes in me, I'm back on my bullshit! NaNo Story? Re-written. Finished? Except for edits. Being inflicted on Ao3 readers? For their many, many sins.

Podunk, Wherever’s stadium had been looking for an excuse to collapse for a decade and, thanks to Lukas’ temper tantrum, it had finally been given one.

Three entire sections of the outer wall had fallen - two where Lukas had played battering ram, the third scorched black where Dash had been caught up in the eels and his thrashing had left big enough cracks that snow had settled in them.

The roadies had stripped the technics and broken down the sets as soon as the med techs cleared the arena, the only things left in the sullen light of dawn were frozen black mud ringed with corroded bleachers and rubble. Nothing to show where both men had almost bled out, let alone where a couple of teams had thrown a ball around twenty years ago.

Dunlap, almost spherical in protective layers, had trudged to the remains of its entrance and slapped on a dereliction notice. Made sense: no way the Colosseum - Fowler - would support a settlement that couldn’t make it worth their while. Circuit City wouldn’t stop there again, that meant no seed, no meds, no munitions - no chance.

The five hundred or so people living in the dilapidated shell of a library next door must have suspected they were walking dead months ago - probably as soon as their harvest failed. All Dunlap had done was nail the coffin shut.

The lucky ones might find some other stop to take them in, but most probably wouldn’t try. It wasn’t like the months after A-Day; the new normal didn’t reward compassion to strangers.

None of Podunk’s people had tried to argue, they’d filed silently back into the dubious shelter of the library and deadbolted the still relatively solid door.

Hidden on the library roof, Casen had heard the bar clunk home with only a faint scrape of rust on rot. It wouldn’t do much against a pack of fomori, or even a concerted effort by a changeling, but it would keep the worst of the freeze out. He guessed Podunk’s people knew that too.

The library roof was surprisingly intact too - high enough to tell if the City was about to be visited by bookies demanding his head, and hard enough to climb no one was likely to stumble over him accidentally.

His hearing wasn’t as good as some, but he caught snatches of conversation as the inhabitants moved from room to room. A short, sharp bark of a laugh. The high wail of an infant, who was settled quickly.

A single figure broke away from the frenetic activity of the breakdown and made their way towards the library a few minutes later. Solidly built, with dark hair under a knitted cap, and dressed in guard leathers: Aaron. He bent under the weight of the large kit bag on his back as he struggled across the snow.

He dropped the bag at the library door, hammered twice with this fist, and turned back the way he’d come. The delivery had to be from Betty - she was the only one who’d risk it and Aaron wouldn’t fight through calf-high snow in his guard leathers for anyone else.

The bolt slammed back and the door opened a crack, then wider as hands scrabbled at the kit bag and dragged it inside. Casen heard gasps and the catch of a sob as the door slammed again. After a few minutes, the unmistakable scent of heated ration packs made its way up to the roof.

Betty had always said everyone should get a last meal. They hadn’t talked in years, but Casen guessed nothing had changed.

Silence fell in the small hours of the morning; Casen turned his attention back to the City.

The two-hundred-and-fifty-strong road crew swarmed here and there as they broke it down. Nominally they were managed by Mayor Dunlap, in practice they operated like a hive consciousness. The majority were human and the few changelings in their ranks weren’t, as far as Casen knew, able to network minds. Do anything often enough and it became rote: the City might stay as little as two nights at a stop and never more than a week.

The frames for the sleeping pods and showers were already gone and the kitchen was almost down - that had probably provided the cover to allow Aaron to smuggle the supplies out. Next would be the burrow and then the armory.

The domiciles always came last, personal items in their crate for transport and the frames themselves folded into small, square cubes their owners could carry onto whatever car, bus, or truck they found a seat.

And there was Mayor Dunlap on the edge of the motor pool, bundled up in a snow coat and violently yellow scarf, literally directing traffic as the City fleet got underway. He didn’t need to do it - everyone knew their place and role - but he did it just the same.

The medical transport pulled away; Aaron had presumably made it back for escort duty. It carried the med techs, Dash, and whatever retaliation plan Dash was coming up with. He’d been conscious and swearing when the techs loaded him, at least: he’d be able to refuse regen.

One-armed, yes, but safe from detection.

Aodh and Dae-sung were probably still in the motor pool, throwing roshambo over who’d get to drive the beat-up SUV Sid usually kept aside for them. Pops meant perks, choosing their ride was only one of them, and Dae-sung - specifically Dae-sung’s tail - needed the space.

Normally, Casen would be with them. He had no popularity ratings to speak of - good - but Dae-sung always wanted an audience for his mixes before he took them live so that paid Casen’s way. He’d claim the back seat and listen to them bicker as he watched fields, scabland, old town, and sometimes - in the far distance - the new cities go by.

Normally, Casen hadn’t interfered in a fight and dismembered two of the Colosseum’s biggest names. They’d both live, but that wasn’t the point as far as the bookies were concerned. And if they didn’t put out a hit, Nico definitely would. They’d ignored each other cordially enough since he’d come back to the City, but she wouldn’t ignore an attack on Lukas, it was only a question of when and where she’d retaliate.

The chaos of the motor pool would be a good place to make a try; Aodh and Dae-sung didn’t need to be in the middle of that. And, if it came to it, Casen didn’t need witnesses. Allowing a few hours of distance between himself and the City would give Dunlap time to smooth things over, and he’d probably try - Dunlap wanted his people happy and executions were bad for morale.

Casen rubbed at the back of his neck; hours later and it was still throbbing, but still an improvement over the initial stab of agony when he’d sliced into Dash. He hadn’t meant to, he’d been intending to kill Lukas and that had fucked everything up.

Don’t lie. Don’t command. Don’t kill.

He’d remembered half a second too late and his implant had reminded him in the worst way possible: leaving Lukas alive and Dash on the wrong end of a blade, which had triggered the implant to fry his brain stem again.

Kai and his fucking white hat.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52586209

#the last dryas #nanowrimo

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deadby2091 · 1 year

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Sliming down my foot wear selection.

Foot wear selection, take care of your feet gents.

Sandals for recovery:

Oofos. I wear these 90% of the time I'm not working.

Garrison Work-boots:

Danner Reckonings Winter. (All things Bridgeport ACC, MCCC, WMLC, et cetera.) main garrison boots for North Carolina winters. These are also my to go to rucking boot paired with Fox River Socks and a thin dress sock liner.

Danner Reckonings hot weather. (RTAP/BRC/A&S/ITC/Rucking) these drainage hole covers rarely stay on with heavy use.

Danner USMC Tropical Boot. 52121 R (MCIWS-Course/CFT/O-Course/MAI/Jungle Warfare) I'm still not sure if these are better then my completely destroyed bates lites. These boots are sized differently then other Danner boots, also they tend to fall apart a lot quicker from hard use compared to the reckonings. Tropical boots are faux jungle boots, do not wear these for hiking rough mountainous terrain.

Water work:

Altama OTB shoes. (OTB/finning/VBSS/lifting/skydiving) simply a better version of the Converse Chuck Taylors high tops. Great for OTB & VBSS, decent for finning but not the best. Pretty flat so not great for running or rucking.

Poseidon One Shoe. this is a mix of the Converse Truck Taylors and the Aqua Lung dive boots. and are meant for fining.

Field work:

******Why I prefer non-Gore Tex? Moisture becomes trapped in Gore-Tex shoes, causing blisters and bacteria growth.*******

Oboz sawtooth II Low Non-Bdry version. (VBSS/climbing/very light rucking/CQB/patrolling/skydiving) these are great for gripping and hiking on rocky surfaces.

Lowa Zephyr Mid TF. Currently torture testing these. (VBSS/climbing/light rucking/CQB/patrolling/military freefall). these shoes offer ankle support that my oboz sawtooth II lows don’t have & are light.

Sneakers:

Hoka speedgoat 4. (trail running/asphalt/concrete)

Hoka bondi 6. (road running on asphalt & concrete)

Nike pegasus 38. (Road/track/PFT)

Regular wear:

Nike revolution 6. comfort shoe to deal with my near constant foot pain. these replaced my Adidas.

Reebok Nano. these were made for people with wide feet.

Vans Sk8 Hi skate Notchback Pro shop. (For picking up San Clemente Milfs at Goodies) honestly wore these into the ground; via lifting at EOS & hard skydiving landings at Elsinore.

SOCKS:

Fox Rivers

Darn Tough

Merino wool

Injinji Liner Crew

Nike No show’s

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vividviverrid · 2 years

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WIP INTRO ➡ mantic harvest

GENRE: science fiction

SETTING: space, on the starship Lighthouse

THEMES: found family, discovering and dealing with trauma, complex morality, rivals to lovers, body sharing

SYNOPSIS:

the crew of the stolen starship lighthouse is composed of a criminal team who have made the ship their home for five years after finding it abandoned in a field. when tasked with stealing a set of precious jewels from a tourist trap planet, the mission goes wrong, and after barely managing to escape, the leader, skylas graver, discovers a young child hiding in the cargo bay. soon, they find out that the child, known as marlenn zynn, is the daughter of a royal family on a distant planet, and that there is more to marlenn than meets the eye; she's the only one of her kind to possess unique psychic powers. soon the crew of the lighthouse is being threatened by an energy being living in the ship's coding with a personal vendetta against marlenn's kind, and being hunted by (almost) the entire population of marlenn's planet, half of which intends to exploit marlenn's abilities to fuel the intergalactic cult they've been forming in her absence, all while the crew becomes increasingly bonded to and protective of marlenn.

STATUS: planning for nano '22.

taglist: empty currently, ask to be added/removed.

character info under cut.

main;

SKYLAS GRAVER, 30 (in human equivalent years), HE/HIM. A warrior from the planet Staezanda (a humanoid cyborg race) in exile for rebellion. Repressed, reserved, and quick to anger, Skylas has incredible combat and technological abilities, but is incredibly socially awkward.

MARLENN ZYNN, equivalent of 14, SHE/HER. From the Prosescrawl division of the planet Kar'tox'iv, whose society has been split into two halves since its modern era based on how each region of the planet evolved to deal with their heightened emotional capacity. one half, prosescrawl, coped with creativity; the other, known simply as the Pyre division, with chaos and anger. marlenn is a skilled thief and manipulator, which is unheard of in prosescrawl.

XA'XELMER, 270 Seldonian circles/27, XE/XYR. Xa'Xelmer is a Conjoined Seldonian---a partially solid, partially energy-based & otherwise humanoid species that merges bodies with their soulmates that are said to be chosen by the Seldonian deity after their status as soulmates is discovered, revealed through a special vision known as a realization sequence. Xa'Xelmer is merged with xyr partner Xa'Vrella. Xyr role in the team is that of emotional support; xe is the "mom friend". Xe is also one of few Seldonians with the ability to weaponize sound, but xe does not like to use this power.

XA'VRELLA, 290 Seldonian circles/29, ZE/HIR. Xa'Vrella is Xa'Xelmer's conjoined Seldonian partner and half of xyr body. Ze is a mathematical genius and brilliant scientist who is on the run from Seldonian authority & wanted for using hir job as a Seldonian official scientist to create a weapon to defend hirself from an abusive relative (weapons are banned in hir home continent).

LARVAZ, adult (doesn't keep track of age, but probably around 26), THEY/THEM. The last remaining member of the Hartbend Hive, an insectoid species that had yet to make contact with the outside galaxy when its homeworld faced a natural disaster that wiped out everyone... except Larvaz, who had been kidnapped as a child by a secretly orbiting Staezandan ship. They grew up on the streets of Staezanda II, eventually becoming a hacker.

HAZE AIDA, adult (species with no concept of tracking age; roughly 28), SHE/HER. transgender macgyver-like mechanic who comes from a criminal family. she's Priskopelian, a slightly snakelike species known for being extremely relaxed and easygoing. she's skylas's love interest.

#wip intro #new wip #writeblr #writing community #wip introduction #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2022 #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr

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maddieautobot273 · 1 year

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Silk & Cologne (30)

A Miguel O’Hara X OC series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 30 - Clarity - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: A Miguel O’Hara x Female OC

Words: 4.4K+ words

Warnings: PG13 for mentions of abuse, character death, scars, injuries

Summary: Lisa and Miguel finally talk

////////////

After Isabella was put to sleep from my enchantment, the rest of her remaining clones that were fighting the other Spiders had disappeared, vanishing into dust. It appeared they were only active while she was awake, able to focus her energy into keeping them active. With them gone, it made the clean up a lot easier.

Jessica organized a cleanup crew with Noir overseeing the repairs to his dimension. Thankfully thanks to Lyla’s previous analysis, no canon events had been disturbed, so his dimension was safe and not at risk of disappearing. Some civilians were injured, but no casualties. I’d call that a win.

Kept locked in her cage, Isabella was brought up to HQ and put in the holding cells with some of the other villains. She’d be kept there until her interrogations were complete about her involvement with Harry Osborn, in order to try and figure out what Harry’s intentions were with the Spider-Society and the Multiverse as a whole. After that, Petra would be able to bring her back to their dimension where she’d be charged for her crimes and imprisoned for good.

For the remainder of our visit, Miguel never left my side. In fact, he kept me at his side for as long as he could. His arm was still wrapped around me, his hand at my waist as I leaned against him for support. He continued to support me, even as he gave orders and looked over reports and analysis of the damage, spewing no indications of discomfort or needing to adjust, even as he opened a portal back to Spider Society HQ.

Miguel walked me to the medical bay where Spider-Doc was waiting, a spare bed ready for me. He must have called the Doctor ahead of time to prepare. Miguel carefully set me down on the bed, helping me lay down. He carefully recalled the piece of his suit that covered my wound and the nano-tech slipped back onto his hand, taking the form of his glove.

He exchanged a look with Spider-Doc, as if communicating silently with him. Spider-Doc nodded before glancing over at me with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done, this will look like nothing more than a paper cut,”

“I know I’m in good hands with you, Doc,” I managed a smile as I coughed, my body adjusting to the new position as a small jolt of pain ached at my side. I glanced over towards Miguel. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay,” Miguel nodded, reaching down to squeeze my hand. “Rest a while. I need a moment to step out and. . . think, if that’s okay?”

Think?

"I have feelings for you, too,"

Ah, of course. It was just like he said. That wasn’t how he wanted to tell me. Not to mention it was most certainly not how I wanted to find out.

“Of course,” I smiled softly at him, my eyes pouring into his.

He gave me a soft look in exchange, his fingers squeezing mine again before pulling away. His warmth lingered on my hand as he stepped away from the bed. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk,”

“Okay,” I nodded as I watched him turn and leave.

“So, I heard the mission went well today,” Spider-Doc spoke up, breaking the ice as he gathered some supplies before pulling up a chair beside me.

I sighed softly, biting back a hiss of pain as he got to work on disinfecting and patching up my wound. “That’s one way to put it,”

My Gizmo buzzed as I glanced over as the small holographic screen appeared to see a message from Gabriel.

“Hey, heard what happened. Want to come by after your check up so I can patch the suit for you?” - Gabriel

“Thank you, Gabriel, I’d appreciate that :)” - Lisa

//////////

Once Spider-Doc finishes patching me up, Gabriel picks me up and walks me over to his workshop where he can fix up my suit. His machine patched up my suit, the little legs working tirelessly as they sewed it back together. During the process, Gwen had offered to jump over to my apartment to grab a change of clothes if I wanted a break from wearing the suit for a while, but I politely declined.

Leaving Gabriel’s lab, I was a bit of a nervous wreck as I walked through the halls of the Society. Other Spiders congratulated me on a job well done, applauding my good deeds during the mission. No one said anything about what Isabella had done to me or Miguel. Did he ask them to not mention it in the mission report, or were they choosing to not say anything and invoke their bosses' wrath?

Speaking of the boss? Where was Miguel?

I had briefly stopped by his lab, hoping to find him there just to check in with him and see how he was holding up. I wasn’t going to force him into talking when he wasn’t ready yet, but I was still worried about him regardless. So when I peeked into his lab and didn’t find him there, my heart rate spiked.

“Miguel?” I called out, thinking maybe he was hiding deeper up on his platform when I didn’t see him on the ground floor.

To my surprise, his platform wasn’t active. It looked like it had been lowered since we left for the mission. So if Miguel wasn’t in his lab, where was he?

“Lyla, do you know where–?” Before I could even finish asking my question, the virtual AI appeared before me.

“Do you even have to ask?” She teased with a playful grin.

“But he hasn’t called me yet, so maybe I should give him his space,” I mumbled with worry as I began to turn.

“Oh, don’t worry, he wants to see you, Lisa,” Lyla had a knowing look on her face.

A chime noise caught my ear as I glanced over to an unfamiliar part of Miguel’s lab, seeing a set of doors pull back. It looked like an elevator. Lyla’s body fizzled inside it, motioning for me to come forward.

“Uh, Lyla, what are you doing?” I asked her as I took a few cautious steps forward.

“I’m taking you to see Miguel,” She beamed.

“Are you sure I should be in here?” I asked again with a nervous expression on my face as I peered inside the elevator.

“Miguel wants to talk to you, Lisa, trust me,” Lyla’s lips form into a grin. “He’s just been. . . occupied,”

“What does that mean?” I raise a brow at the AI, jumping when the elevator doors close.

“You’ll see,” She gives me a knowing smile before she fades away and the elevator comes to life, soaring up.

I tried to keep myself calm and collected as I thought about what I was going to say to Miguel. Rather it was more like rehearsed. I couldn’t remember the last time my palms were sweating so much, or how I was pacing around the small elevator.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity, the elevator chimed again, coming to a stop. Only this time the doors in front of me didn’t open, but rather the doors behind me did. I stepped out, walking down a short narrow hallway until I turned at an exit and I froze.

I saw a beautiful scenic view of Nueva York. I found myself on a private balcony that overlooked Uptown. I was enamored by the puffy white clouds, the sleek structure of the buildings below us. But what stunned me the most was the silence. No honking of cars, no sounds of traffic. Just tranquil peace.

That was until I heard a voice muttering, sounding stressed.

I glanced over and my cheeks flushed finding Miguel sitting near the balcony’s edge. His gizmo was activated, a holographic image of his brother Gabriel hovering above it.

“No lo se, Gabri,” Miguel sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Estoy aterrorizado voy a estropear esto de alguna manera,” - I don’t know, Gabri. I’m just terrified I’m going to mess this up somehow

“Te conozco, Migs, siempre haces todo lo posible para que las cosas funcionen.” Gabriel smiled at his brother through the holographic feed. “Ya has llegado hasta aquí, ¿verdad?” - I know you, Migs, you always try your damn hardest to make things work. You’ve come this far already, right?

“I know, it’s just–” Miguel shook his head. “That was not how I wanted them to find out,”

I coughed into my fist, watching as Miguel jumped in his spot before whirling around to see me.

“Tell me about it,” I chuckled nervously.

“Lisa?!” Miguel gawked.

“Lisa?” Gabriel repeated, his hologram trying to move to get a better look.

Miguel immediately blocked his view, looking back towards the hologram. “I’ll call you back,” he ended the call as the hologram quickly disappeared.

“Did I come at a bad time?” I asked with an anxious tone in my voice.

“No, no, it’s just I wasn’t– how did you even get up here?” Miguel asked me before he froze, his expression doing deadpan as he grumbled. “Lyla. . .”

“Sorry, Miguel,” Lyla apologized as she appeared on my shoulder with an innocent expression on her face. “I can’t help myself,”

Miguel pulled up a knee to his chest, resting his arm along it as he looked back out to the city view below us. He fiddled with his fingers, contemplating. I stood back, wanting to give him his space.

“Lyla, can you give Lisa and I a moment?” Miguel asked the AI as he kept his gaze on the city. “Please?”

“Sure thing big guy,” Lyla smiled, offering the both of us an encouraging wink before she disappeared.

We both stayed there in silence for a moment. There was a gentle breeze in the air as the wind brushed against Miguel’s hair. He turned to look at me, offering me a calming look as he motioned for me to join him.

I nodded softly as I walked slowly towards him. The balcony was made of this hard glass plating. I couldn’t see right through it, otherwise I’d be staring straight down to the ground and not moving an inch. My footsteps were quiet as I neared Miguel and eased down to sit beside him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“A bit bruised up, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” He nodded softly, his gaze still trained on the city.

I pulled my mask off, letting the wind brush against my skin before I pulled back my hair tie. My hair dropped past my shoulders, some of the strands flowing in the wind. I sighed softly as I looked out at the view.

“I can see why you’d come up here,” I smiled softly, glancing at him. “It’s a beautiful view,”

Miguel hummed in agreement, his eyes softening as he kept looking out into the sky.

I looked down at my hands nestled into my lap, my fingers fidgeting with my mask. “We don’t have to talk about. . . us right now, if you need more time,”

Miguel sat there silently for a while. He twiddled with his thumbs, as if debating whether or not to say something. I could sense the gears turning in his mind as I glanced over towards him.

“Almost one year ago, after I had first established the Spider-Society, I found another dimension with an alternate version of myself,” Miguel began, his voice a little shaky, but he spoke with a calm demeanor.

I turned my attention to him completely as he took a deep breath, as if encouraging himself to keep going.

“I had found a version of myself where I had a family, and I was happy,” He spoke, almost flinching at the last word as he shut his eyes briefly.

“You weren’t. . . happy here?” I dared myself to ask, my voice quiet.

Miguel glanced over, our eyes meeting for the first time. I noted his eye colour. It was chocolate brown.

“It wasn’t always just Gabriel and I. A few years back, there was this girl that I worked with during my time in Alchemax. . . I was convinced that she was the one. I asked her to marry me and we soon found out she was pregnant. Things were going well,”

Miguel raised his wrist, bringing up a holographic picture from his gizmo. I leaned closer to get a better look. She had light skin with brown eyes and long silky black hair. The photo ID tag read: Xina Kwan-O’Hara.

I smiled at the photo. “She’s really pretty,”

Miguel smiled softly in turn. “Xina really was,”

I shook off the nerves, gulping as I glanced back at his face. “What happened to her?”

“Shortly after our baby, Gabriela, we called her, was born, Xina suddenly became sick. Very sick,”

I could hear the material of his suit stretched as he balled his free hand into a fist.

“Here in 2099 we’ve made over a dozen impossible things possible,” Miguel couldn’t help but smirk at the prospect of it all before his head hung low. “A cure for cancer? That’s. . . still one hurdle we haven’t crossed yet,”

My eyes widened at the claim as I felt a ping of sadness ache in my chest. Losing someone to an incurable disease. I knew the feeling all too well.

“Did she–?” I asked, my words hitching as I quickly realized the outcome.

“Xina fought like hell. She really did. But soon it became too much,” Miguel’s head hung low, shutting his eyes as he momentarily paid his respects. “I did my best trying to raise and take care of Gabriela on my own but, even she— she got–”

I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to realize where Miguel was going.

I hesitated briefly before I scooted closer towards him, one hand placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, the other gently placing themselves over his free hand. I could see faint tears in his eyes when his eyelids opened, sensing my touch.

“I was 11 when I lost my father to cancer,” I mumbled softly.

My finger tips gripped his shoulder gently as my thumb brushed against his suit. Miguel glanced down at my hand as he gently flipped his free hand around, his palm facing my before his fingers wrapped around my hand. “I’m sorry for your loss,”

“It’s funny how grieving works, doesn’t it?” I can’t help but chuckle a little.

I feel Miguel’s chest rumble as a quiet huff escapes him, shaking his head. We both sat there in idle silence before he took another breath. “When I found the other dimension, of me and my family, well, I was happy that at least a version of me could still have it all. I observed from a distance for a while, but. . .”

Miguel swiped the hologram feed to show footage of a young girl running around with a soccer ball before jumping into Miguel’s arms. I realized it was the same child I had seen from a previous feed when I went to see Miguel in his lab. This was Gabriela. . .

“That version of myself was killed,” Miguel sighed deeply, as if those very words were haunting him. His grip on my hand tightened ever so slightly as he took a deep breath through his nose. “So, I replaced him. . .”

The pupils of my eyes widened at the claim. After losing his family once, he didn’t want them to experience the grief he went through. “Miguel. . .” I mumbled out his name, whether in sympathy or guilt, I wasn’t sure.

“I thought it was harmless,” He shook his head, thinking back on it all. The look in his eyes seemed to tell me he was almost scolding himself for what he did. “But I was wrong. . .”

A prompt appeared on the holographic screen saying “No other recordings detected”.

“The other Miguel dying,” I spoke slowly as the pieces of the puzzle were put in place in my mind, connecting each other to show me the full picture. “That was the canon event, wasn’t it?”

“Miguel O’Hara was supposed to stay dead. If I hadn’t taken his place to keep taking care of Gabri–” He almost choked at the mention of her name. “Her dimension wouldn’t have crumbled,”

I looked up at Miguel with sad eyes as my one hand stretched across to wrap my arm around him as I pressed my forehead against his arm. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that, Miguel,”

Miguel didn’t say anything back. But he didn’t have to. I got a grasp of what he meant when he powered off his gizmo, that arm reaching over to hug my frame, albeit a tad awkwardly, but I didn’t pry. Especially when he squeezed my hand as I felt a tear drop stain the skin of my hand that held his own.

“Now, with all that being said,'' Miguel sniffled as he glanced down at me after a few minutes had passed, trying to manage a half playful smile. “You don’t have to share your stuff with me right now just because I did,”

I felt like the air had been kicked out of me as I wheezed a slow laughter, drying the few stray tears from my face. “Well, when you put it like that, Miguel–!”

“All I’m saying is, you made me feel like I could talk about this now,” Miguel clarified with a relieved smile as he gently pulled back to look down at me. “Talk about my stuff. Don’t feel pressured to share yours right now if you don’t want to. But just know for when that time comes, I’ll be here to listen,”

“Thank you, Miguel,” I smiled sweetly at him before my gaze softened. “However, with all the close calls I’ve had, now might be the best time for me,”

The look on Miguel’s face said it all as his body turned to face me. “Are you sure?”

“You’ll be here to listen, right?” I grinned with a sincere expression.

He smiled softly, nodding his head.

I took that as my sign to start telling my story. I took a deep breath, my hand still holding Miguel’s free hand tightly along his lap.

“After my dad passed away, it was just me and my mom for a while. My dad worked as a sound stage engineer, setting up the sound system for bands for their shows and my mom was a music producer. Everything I know about music I learned from them, and I was the type of kid that could never sit still so they put me into dance classes at an early age,” I began, smiling at the memories.

“You? Not sitting still?” Miguel raised a brow at me with a teasing glare. “I find that a little hard to believe,”

“Oh, you would not be a fan of me if we met when we were kids, trust me,” I chuckled softly.

“How did they meet?” Miguel asked almost cautiously, and I knew exactly who he was referring to.

“While on a business trip in South Korea, my mom met a guy named Jin Park. She was overseeing her company’s new branch opening in Asia and he was one of the new team members. They went long distance for a while, but they made it work. Eventually he moved in with us, they got married, things were good. After mom retired, Jin was my biggest supporter and hype man when it came to my dance career,”

I looked back out into the sky again, looking out at the clouds.

“One summer, he invited me to come with him back to Seoul for an International Idol Boot Camp. He had shown the coaches of his company’s idol department my demos and they were really impressed. I figured, where was the harm in trying?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“A once in a lifetime opportunity,” Miguel spoke, as if he understood the meaning of those words.

“I was only supposed to stay there for the summer. Two, maybe three months,” I continued, and the closer I got to the gritty dark underbelly of those memories, I could feel my fingers begin to tremble.

“Lisa,” Miguel gently called out my name, his other hand reaching out to carefully brush my hair away from my face.

I only realized then how tall, how big and strong he actually was. How large his hands were. My hands looked like a child’s compared to him.

“How long did you stay there?” He asked me.

I took a shaky breath, my throat starting to go dry. “Something. . . changed about Jin. I don’t know if it was the stress of the job, or whatever, but I stayed for him. I stayed and worked hard to try and make it work for Jim, thinking that would help ease him,” I could start to feel the tears swell up in my eyes as I shook my head to try and shake the nerves away.

Miguel drew me closer to him almost instantly, his arm wrapped around me in a protective manner. “How long? What did he do?”

The silent question hung on his lips. What did he do to give you those scars?

“I stayed there for two years,” I groaned. “I endured the toxic work environment, the verbal abuse, the long hours of non-stop rehearsals, horrible diets, constantly apologizing for things I didn’t do, and let an asshole walk all over me, for two years, and I did it for him,”

I could feel the tears racing now, as Miguel held me close. I’m sure he was thinking of a million things right now. Such as why isn’t the father paying for his sins against his daughter?

“We were coming up on a headlining show. I was supposed to perform with a group, but I couldn’t take it anymore,” I shook my head into Miguel’s chest as I felt his hand cup the back of my head, his fingers combing through my hair. “I stood up to Jin and told him that I was done, and that I wanted out. We got into a huge argument about it and he– he hit me,”

I choked the last few words out and I could physically feel Miguel’s muscles stiffen, his body freezing and tightening all at once.

“I fell into one of the stage decorations. It was made of glass and– I got sliced pretty bad,” I took slow deep breaths. “I needed emergency surgery,”

I could feel Miguel’s hand trace down to my stomach, placing his palm gently to where the scars were, his fingertips curling into my suit. “Did you get out?”

I nodded softly. “I cut contact with him and left,”

We both sat there for a while, just enjoying the view and taking solace in each other’s company.

“You were really brave, you know that?” Miguel mumbled softly. “You still are. . .”

I pulled my head back to stare up at him, the tears drying on my cheeks as he met my gaze. Oh god, those eyes. . .

“Thank you for listening. . .” I spoke quietly.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He flashed me a toothy grin.

We both smiled at each other before Miguel reached over, drying his tears as another sniffle escaped him.

I pulled my arm back from his shoulders, looking up at him. “So. . . you genuinely like me back?”

If not for the memory of his confession due to Isabella’s sonic screech earlier this morning, the question would have caught Miguel way more off guard.

"A part of me still grieves Xina and misses her deeply, and I'm not sure when I'll recover with what happened to Gabriela, but,” Miguel paused as he gathered himself, finding the right words, no, the perfect words to say. “. . . I'm at the point where I can no longer hold back or deny how I feel about you, Lisa. Not anymore."

My heart fluttered at his confession, the pupils of my eyes widening.

"I'd never ask you to forget them, Miguel," I look at him with soft, sympathetic eyes as I grip his hand tightly in my own, gently placing his hand on his chest over where his heart rested. "You'll always remember them, the memories you share with them, in here. They'll always be a part of you,"

“I know, Lisa, I know you wouldn’t,” he smiled softly at me before offering a playful wink. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly,”

“Hey! Only if it's a mutant villain fly maybe-!” I stuttered, my cheeks burning a bright red.

Miguel laughed at my outburst, his hands lowering from his heart as he reached out and wrapped an arm back around my shoulders. The redness of my cheeks never faded.

“Do you remember earlier when I mentioned that if I allowed myself to like you, I’d risk disrupting your canon and your dimension’s life force?” He asked me.

I nodded my head slowly.

“Well, I asked Lyla to run a diagnostic for me the other day,” He explained as he brought out his Gizmo again, the holographic screen reappearing. “The good news is, your dimension is still steadily repairing itself and no other tears in its threads have been detected,”

“Is there bad news?” I asked nervously.

Miguel paused before his puff lips formed into a prideful smirk. “Try more good news,”

He brought the screen closer to me as I read the report and I nearly froze, a hand coming up to muffle my gasp.

“No canon events detected!”

“My universe doesn’t have a canon?” I asked him with surprise as I looked up at him.

“Not according to Lyla’s model,” Miguel confirmed.

“So you’re saying. . . There’s a chance that we—?” I could feel the rush of adrenaline kick in as my heart began to beat faster.

“We can. We can, mi Mona Lisa,” Miguel smiled brightly at me as he took his large hands in my small delicate ones, before his lips thinned. “But a part of me is still scared. No canon means. . . Anything could happen. Good and bad,” - my Mona Lisa

My gaze drifted off back towards the sky as I processed his words, “Well,” I glanced back over towards him, offering him a soft smile. “We can support each other through both. There’s a first time for everything, Miguel,”

The pupils of his eyes widened as he took my words to heart, smiling softly back at me. “Indeed, Lisa,”

We both looked back out to the sky, Miguel keeping me tucked close as I found myself leaning my head against his frame and his arm around my shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

“So, what now?”

//////////

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nuadox · 15 days

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Upgraded atomic force microscopy captures 3D images of dissolving calcite

- By Nuadox Crew -

Researchers at the Nano Life Science Institute (WPI-NanoLSI) at Kanazawa University (Japan) enhanced their high-speed atomic force microscopy (HS-AFM) to improve both speed and resolution, enabling them to capture 3D structures and provide direct evidence of a hydration layer forming during the dissolution of calcite.

This discovery supports a previously contested hypothesis that a hydration layer, critical to processes like adhesion and corrosion, forms as calcite dissolves.

The researchers, led by Kazuki Miyata, Adam S. Foster, and Takeshi Fukuma, combined HS-AFM with 3D scanning force microscopy (SFM) to image these structures in real time, resolving the trade-offs between speed and spatial resolution that hindered earlier studies. Their findings confirm simulations predicting the presence of this hydration layer.

Image: High-speed 3D-SFM imaging. Credit: Kanazawa University.

Header image credit: Image Creator in Bing/DALL.E (AI-generated)

Read more at Kanazawa University/PRNewswire

Scientific paper: Kazuki Miyata, Kosuke Adachi, Naoyuki Miyashita, Keisuke Miyazawa, Adam S. Foster, and Takeshi Fukuma. High-speed three-dimensional scanning force microscopy visualization of subnanoscale hydration structures on dissolving calcite step edges. Published on line 26 August, 2024, Nano Letters 2024. DOI: 10.1021/acs.nanolett.4c02368

Other recent news

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Superconducting Transmission Lines: VEIR, a company founded by an MIT alumnus, has developed technology to enhance power grid efficiency using superconducting transmission lines.

#imaging #minerals #microscopy #hydration #physics #chemistry #energy #green energy #materials #proton #power grid #electricity

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tsyllaes · 2 months

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Water Infused with Desert Lime and Muntries

TITLE Water Infused with Desert Lime and Muntries AUTHOR @annarti DISCLAIMER All mine PART 3 of 5 (998 words) (Part 1) (Part 2) ABOUT Part two of the meeting of two characters from my upcoming porny NaNo! Learning a bit more about the two of them.

She ducked her head into her shoulders in her own embarrassed shrug. ‘Fine. You still started it.’

Uli grinned and delighted to see her smile back. ‘Well, I’m not stopping it. Come and meet my parents,’ he said with a wink, then pushed himself from the bench and held out a hand.

Her nose crinkled again as she took his hand and pushed herself upright. ‘Lead on.’

Ulindu led her back out of the kitchen and through the dining room, where the two remaining tables conversed in distance-carrying voices trained over a life at sea.

Tesi-Seti-Siti called something out to her skipper—her father, Uli reminded himself. He knew enough Tsaythi to understand the gist, that she was going to the smithy and would see them back on the ship afterwards.

‘Take care, Sita,’ the captain replied in Tsaythi, and Uli gave him a silent nod and smile of profound thanks. He wouldn’t have to embarrass himself by asking her name.

The prevailing sou-easter hit Uli with salt and the yell of seagulls as he bent his head into the wind. There were dark clouds out to sea but they would almost certainly slide on up the coast. In Ni-Badra, the clouds were thin and glary so Ulindu had to squint.

‘Why are you a chef?’ Sita asked. ‘When your parents are both blacksmiths, I mean. How come you are not a blacksmith, too?’

Ulindu shrugged. ‘You aren’t a leader; I’m not a blacksmith. I helped in the smithy growing up, but my favourite part of the day was always helping make breakfast with Mama, foraging along the beach and thinking about everything I found, what I could turn it into to make it delicious. Mama was the one who made me realise it could be a career, though. It was like something just snapped into place in my brain. I’m not a blacksmith. I’m a chef.’

Sita gave him her crinkle-nosed smile. ‘That is really great, to have your parents actually be supportive like that. It seems like so many people I meet are stuck in lives they do not want because their parents told them to.’

Uli cocked his head. It sounded like there was something personal in the statement. ‘But… not you?’ he tested. Maybe she did want to be the captain.

Sita hesitated a moment, then pursed her lips with a sigh. Uli held his tongue, just patiently waiting for her to find her words.

‘You know we have arranged marriages in Tsayth, yes?’

‘Ah,’ Uli said with a nod of understanding.

‘No, not “ah.” It is not like how the world seems to think it is. We are not forced into anything, it is just…’ She tipped her head back in exasperation and reached up to pull off her bandana, fiddling with the knot as she spoke. ‘When I was a baby, my parents and the parents of a boy on another ship, Nedu, negotiated for their family to join our crew, with mine and Nedu’s potential match being part of the deal. Like I say, there is nothing at all forcing it to happen, but the fact you both have the shared life experience with the real potential for marriage to happen… Many more arranged marriages end up happening than not. You grow up together, being taught the same values, understanding the same hierarchy on the same ship, the same expectations of a relationship. Your parents are already friends and you grow up all feeling like family. So I properly fell in love with Nedu, always knew marriage was going to happen, but now, he… he has told me he is not in love with me. He does not hate me or anything, we get on really well, so it is not enough for him to say he does not want to get married, but he has asked if I mind him looking for someone… better…’

Ulindu cringed with sympathy. ‘So your choices are to either marry someone who doesn’t love you like you love him, or to let the one you love marry someone else.’

Sita shook her head, lifting her bandanna to retie it. ‘Those are not choices. I need to find someone better.’ She sighed again and pulled the ends of her cloth with more force than she probably needed. ‘It is hard to move on from something I always thought was a certainty. I always, always knew I was to marry Nedu. We were to have children, maybe one would be captain after my sister. His parents and mine already act like we are married. It just… It is hard. To completely readjust my thinking.’ She kicked at the edge of a cobblestone.

‘This was recent?’

‘When we left the last port, in Razabes.’

Ulindu had to assume it wasn’t a long trip. He awkwardly cleared his throat. ‘So is that why you’re… um…’

She hooked her hands behind her back with a little shrug and a crinkled nose. ‘No! Well, maybe a little bit. I gave him permission to look elsewhere, but it was not until we started coming into port here that I finally gave myself permission, too. Mostly I just think you are cute. And you are an amazing cook.’ She bumped him with her shoulder. ‘I mean, not that I am thinking that far ahead. I am not… am not ready to replace him yet. We could still have fun while I am in port, yes? No expectations?’

A smile spread across Uli’s lips as he looked at the gorgeous Tsaythi walking beside him. Her grey eyes danced, her teeth a bright smile in her dark face, not cheeky but hopeful. ‘We absolutely can,’ he agreed. ‘But first, may I present the best smithy in Ni-Badra.’ He held a hand out to the sandstone building they had now reached.

Sita’s hopeful little smile turned to one of broad delight. ‘Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten!’ She reached out to swish the canvas door aside.

---

Finally, Uli gets Sita's name right =3 Names and family lineage are extremely important in Tsayth, prevents bastards and inbreeding in small spaces like ships.

Bit of history for them both yay! Mostly Sita cos she's the one I'm exploring with this.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2024 #writers of tumblr

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crimsonpublishersbiosciences · 2 months

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Next Steps in Space Travel and Colonization: Terraforming, Ectogenesis, Nano Spacecraft and Avatars_Crimson Publishers

Abstract:

The routine detection of exoplanets has started to yield a candidate list of new worlds potentially capable of harboring or sustaining life. To date 3775 exoplanets have been confirmed contained within 625 planetary systems. Of the 3775 planets, 55 are deemed suitable to support life of which 1 is subterran (0.1-0.5ME or 0.4-0.8RE; ME=Earth mass, and RE=Earth radius), 22 are terran (0.5-5ME or 0.8-1.5RE) and 32 are superterran (5- 10ME or 1.5-2.5RE) [1,2]. Facilitated in part to date by the Gaia [3,4] and Kepler space telescopes [5,6], the launch of the Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite (TESS) on April 18th, 2018 [7,8] which will monitor more than 200,000 stars for temporary drops in brightness caused by planetary transits further increases what is surely a highly likely outcome; identification of a set of candidates for further exploration. In 2018, the principle driver for identification of an ’Earth 2.0’, a planet very close to Earth characteristics is scientific curiosity and to determine whether life exists in, or beyond our Solar system. However, there is now growing evidence that the activities of humans as of 12,000yrs ago and to the present day have increased extinction rates of many species and that we are experiencing the 6th extinction level event (ELE) or the Holocene extinction [9,10]. The consequences of this latest ELE may add urgency to considering other planets for where mankind can migrate and settle, in part as a potential staging post for further exploration and in part as a failsafe should Earth become inhospitable to supporting life as we know it today. For both near (solar system) and deep (beyond solar system) space travel, the ergonomic challenges facing manned spaceflight for both human physiological and psychological adaptation to microgravity are well understood and countermeasures for and mitigation of the effects of microgravity are being developed [11], which include generation of artificial or simulated gravity in space [12-14]. The longevity of human lifespan is an as yet unsurmountable obstacle for reaching even the nearest stars with propulsion technologies available today and strategies are being considered which may prolong functional lifespan [15]. An alternative route to exploring deep space is to deploy unmanned space probes which combine the evolving fields of artificial intelligence, design and deployment of nano spacecraft and the futuristic concept of sending humans as avatars on small lightweight spacecraft as an e-crew. Taken together, it is possible to construct two parallel lines of thinking and simple decision matrices which utilize manned or unmanned space craft and in the first review we will consider their application to both near and far distance space travel missions.

Read More About this Article: https://crimsonpublishers.com/sbb/fulltext/SBB.000541.php

Read More Articles: https://crimsonpublishers.com/sbb/

#crimson publishers #significances of bioscience and bioengineering #crimson open access journals #bioengineering #peer review journals

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emmanuellececchi · 10 months

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Nanowrimo - update

So... Writing a modern romance is, somewhat, harder for me, that writing a fantasy one. My girl is not fighting monster, or healing people (she's not a doctor), my guy is not a hero...

Thankfully, I realized that earlier and began doing some modification, adding what they were doing but I realize I may need to add more.

And so, I am still struggling with my story. After last time, I have begun rewriting the first chapters... yes with a S. Not everything but a lot. it feels better, my characters are better fleshed out and they feel more natural. I still need to work hard.

the thing is, by doing that, I am scrapping my word count. As I am erasing old parts and adding new words, my count is "0". So, I found a way around. I have begun working on later chapters. Where I know my two characters are heading. so, it helps boost the words counts, and I feel like I'm doing progress. it's a win win situation, although it'S double the work.

So, here is my progression. Today I was able to write more (free afternoon) but as you can see i'm not very stable, wich is alright.

And you my fellow writers, how are you doing? I wish you're still writing, even if it's a word a week. Come on, we got this! Best of luck to everyone.!

#novel writing #nanowrimo #nano support crew

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seashield · 3 months

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Sealants & Coatings

Welcome to Sea Shield Sealant & Coatings. We provide cutting-edge sealants, coatings, and nano-coating solutions that combine protection and technology. We have a wide range of products in our collection that have the purpose of protecting surfaces and improving gel coat and paint durability in the boating industry.

Why Choose Sea Shield Sealants and Nano Ceramic Coating

Our sealants and ceramic coatings are widely used in marine conditions, aside from automotive applications. The marine coatings from Sea Shield have been developed to resist the harsh environments found in saltwater, shielding decks, hulls, and other marine surfaces against deterioration, pollution, and rust. Boat owners can benefit from longer maintenance periods and improved performance on the open seas with Sea Shield Coatings.

Our dedication to quality and innovation goes beyond the creation of new products and includes full-service customer support. Customer satisfaction is our top priority at Sea Shield Coatings, and we provide professional advice, technical support, and customized solutions to satisfy whatever your specific requirements are. Whatever your background—professional applicator, boat, and yacht detailer, or do-it-yourselfer—our crew is dedicated to making sure you get the most out of our products.

#ceramic coating #yacht product #boating product #sealants & coating nano coating #Best Sealants and Nano Ceramic Coatings

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stellarblade24x · 4 months

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Stellar Blade: Unpredictable Odyssey

Stellar Blade is finally here, and if you thought the demo was fire, wait until you grab the full game from Shift Up. They're swinging for the fences like Babe Ruth with this one, calling their shot for Game of the Year! Oh, and don't forget to cop some Xbox games to keep the gaming party going strong. And yeah, you heard me right—Stellar Blade is lit on the PlayStation 5, with gameplay that hooks you and a story that hits you in the feels. Even with some old-school vibes, it's still next-gen goodness that had me hooked from the jump. If you haven’t checked out the demo, you're missing out. It's just a taste of what's to come in the full game. Picture this: humanity gets wrecked by the Naytiba and we bounce to space for safety. But now, we're back for revenge, led by Eve and her crew. Things go sideways real quick, leaving Eve to clean up the mess on the post-war streets of Eidos-7, infested by those nasty creatures. So where's humanity been hiding? We got whooped on Earth, so we jetted to space to start over. But now it's payback time! There are still some humans left on Earth, who need our help. Allies like Adam and his trusty drone point us in the right direction, but in this messed-up world, trust no one and expect surprises as the story unfolds. The game doesn’t waste time with intros—it throws you straight into the action. Stellar Blade is a third-person action-adventure where you level up Eve's skills as you go, from fighting to survival and beyond. It's like a Grade-B Blockbuster but in the best way possible. And Eve? She's just too cool for words.

Stellar Blade: Grounded Fury

When you look at Stellar Blade compared to other games, it’s like Bayonetta meets NieR: Automata, especially with both heroines rocking those body suits to the max. And hey, while you're at it, why not score some PS5 games to keep the gaming vibes lit? Plus, you’ve got the character designs from the legendary Korean artist Kim Hyung Tae (you know, from Blade & Soul), who nails that badass vibe perfectly. And Eve? She’s a sight to behold, rocking different nano suits that showcase her femininity as she kicks butt and takes names in her quest to reclaim the world. But don’t go thinking Stellar Blade is just a mindless button masher. Nah, there’s some serious strategy involved, and not just with the big boss battles. Like they say, the best defense is a good offense, and that rings true here. You gotta block, parry, and dodge like a pro, and as Eve levels up, she gets access to more weapons and moves to keep things interesting. Combat in Stellar Blade is diverse, with Eve pulling off acrobatic moves and slicing through enemies like a boss. Each enemy has its own strengths and weaknesses, and you gotta exploit those weaknesses to win. It’s serious business, way more grounded than Bayonetta, and it definitely gives off some Devil May Cry vibes. But make no mistake, Stellar Blade stands on its own with its flawless combat system.

Stellar Blade: Immersive Mastery

Visually, Stellar Blade is straight-up next-gen, with its massive open worlds and realistic post-apocalyptic vibe from the alien invasion. The level design is spot-on, sucking you into this intense and sometimes downright scary atmosphere. Characters like Eve and her crew look dope, and even the thousands of enemies you face are well-crafted as you hack and slash your way through. You can even tweak the graphics for more detail or smoother gameplay, depending on your vibe. And yeah, the game supports haptic feedback, and it runs like a dream on the PlayStation Portal.

Stellar Blade: Demo Dive

The audio is just as impressive. You can take things up a notch with Tempest 3D, immersing yourself even more in the universe with surround sound. The voice acting might be a bit cheesy at times, but it fits the characters and the world perfectly. And the sounds of this messed-up planet, from the background noises to the terrifying roars of the creatures you face, add to the whole experience. And don’t even get me started on the soundtrack—it pumps up the action and hits you right in the feels. Seriously, grab some headphones or earbuds for the full effect. If you’re on the fence, check out the demo for Stellar Blade. But if you’re after a challenging yet rewarding third-person action game, this one hits the spot. It’s probably gonna be Game of the Year, no doubt about it!

#stellar blade

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niqhtlord01 · 2 years

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Humans are weird: WMD

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

“The fleet has entered high anchor Admiral Bancroft.”

Bancroft nodded to his second in command but gave no other response as he looked out the window.

Things seemed so peaceful when he looked out the window into the void. The light of a thousand stars shinning back at him in silence, possibly the only true silence he had ever known his entire life. He would come here to his personal quarters, away from the chaotic noise of the command deck or the hallways of his ship filled with the echoes of machinery a dozen decks below. Here he could calm his mind and collect his thoughts; and for what was to come he was in dire need of a calm mind.

“Get me weapons control.”

A small display appeared on the window Bancroft was looking out of. The image was hazy for a few moments before it came into focus and a person came into view.

“Weapons control here, sir.”

“Mr. Milton is the weapon ready for deployment?” Bancroft asked.

From the display Milton turned and spoke to someone off screen for a moment before replying.

“We have loaded the weapon into launcher three and technicians are making their final checks now.”

Bancroft was about to acknowledge the report when he noticed Mr. Milton was acting strangely. His long years of service aboard the Cairo had given him insight into reading his crew and officers. He could tell that Milton had something more he wished to say, but was holding his tongue out of duty.

“Do you have something more to add, Mr. Milton?” Bancroft asked. “You may speak freely.”

“Sir,” Milton began uneasily, “it’s about the weapon.”

“You have concerns about it?”

Milton looked around again as if making sure no one could overhear him before continuing to speak with his captain. “I’ve managed every weapon on this ship for the last two decades; but this Nano bomb, something doesn’t feel right about it.”

“I’m afraid wars are not won with feelings, Mr. Milton.” Bancroft replied, but Milton shook his head.

“I’ve inspected every weapon ever used on this ship, but these technicians that brought the nano bomb aboard won’t even let me within ten feet of the damn thing without threatening to break my legs.”

“It’s a prototype, Mr. Milton;” Bancroft said while rubbing the bridge of his nose, “you know how these science types get when they play with their latest toy.”

“We’re not talking about a fancy laser pointer or a copier that prints food.” Mr. Milton retorted.

Bancroft’s gaze hardened. “Careful, Mr. Milton.” He said. He allowed his crew some leniency with how they addressed him but he would not tolerate insubordination.

Realizing he was close to overstepping himself Milton paused to collect his thoughts.

“Apologies sir,” he began, his eyes looking at the floor for a moment as if ashamed of his actions, “I am just worried what might happen to the ship and the fleet when this thing goes off and we’re right next to ground zero.”

Hearing this Bancroft couldn’t help but agree.

The war department had given him this new bomb to deploy when he had set out with his fleet for the final battle against the Ken’dar, but they had given little in details about what it would actually do. They had demanded a portion of his ship be sectioned off for its storage and support team to handle during transition and during the entire trip to the Ken’dar homeworld the technicians supervising the device had not once set foot outside of their area.

When the remnants of the Ken’dar fleet had made a final stand against the human fleet the first communication from the technicians was made ordering the admiral to keep the Cairo away from the fighting. Bancroft had been incensed to be ordered around on his own flagship by outsiders, but they had the mandate from the central government so he held the Cairo back.

Now it was time to deploy the weapon and still he knew nothing of its intent. He shared the concerns Mr. Milton had, but he knew that there were some things better left unknown.

“Your concerns are noted, Mr. Milton.” Bancroft replied, turning back to his second in command who was still waiting behind him. “Tolland, order the rest of the fleet to break orbit and move further out; we shall remain at high anchor until the weapon is deployed and then withdraw as well.”

“Understood,” Tolland replied immediately, “but our orders from the technicians were to hold high anchor until they finished gathering the weapons data.”

Bancroft turned to face Tolland. “They may have oversight of their latest death machine, but I still command this fleet and I say when and where it goes.”

He took several steps closer to Tolland who straightened up further until Bancroft was right in front of him.

“If they have a problem with my orders you may show them to the nearest shuttle pod and have them sent down to the surface; we can pick them up afterwards.”

Needing no more instruction, Tolland saluted and left the room to issue the new orders. When Bancroft turned back to the window he could see the fleet breaking high anchor and following his instructions.

“Will that satisfy you Mr. Milton?” Bancroft asked as he resumed his spot at the window.

“Aye, sir.” Milton responded.

“Then deploy the weapon.”

The display went out leaving Bancroft looking at the planet below. Several minutes passed before a streak of pure light shot out from his ship and began making its way to the surface.

Bancroft watched the light continue its rapid descent until he heard the door to the room open once more as Tolland returned.

“The ship will begin maneuvering away from the planet as you commanded sir.” Tolland said as he took up his position behind him. “The technicians were upset but relented once I showed them to the nearest airlock.”

This brought a smile to Bancroft’s face. “Well done Tolland.”

Nodding his thanks, Tolland continued “They appear to have hacked into the planets security system and are monitoring the results now; would you care to observe as well?”

Bancroft tilted his head in acknowledgment and a projection of the capital city appeared before him. The camera appeared to be part of a road network system for monitoring traffic. As he watched he could see Ken’darians pulling over to the side of the road and looking up. Though he could never fully read their alien expressions, he knew the look of pure terror all too well.

The camera slowly panned up from the city streets and the trail of the weapon came into full view.

Coming down at near impossible speeds, the rocket impacted the tallest building in the city with a thunderous impact. Bancroft closed his eyes expecting a blinding light from the explosion, but to his surprise nothing came.

He opened to see the top of the building had crumbled like cardboard from the impact, but otherwise the city was intact. He saw the Ken’darian citizens began looking amongst themselves in equal surprise as if the notion of their continued existence was something they had not counted on.

“Mr. Milton,” Bancroft spoke as his face returned once again on a separate projection, “have the technicians reported a failure with the weapon?”

Milton shook his head. “They are telling me that the weapon is working as intended.”

“Working?” Bancroft inquired. He was going to ask for an elaboration when Tolland coughed and drew his attention back to the security feed.

When he looked back he saw that the top of the impacted building was shifting and seemingly moving. Large pools of a grey material were dripping down the sides of the building like pools of sludge while the top of the building began to melt away.

“What am I looking at Mr. Milton?” Bancroft asked, sure that his weapons officer was also monitoring the feed.

“By the seven heavens of Astrid….” Milton spoke softly, entranced by what he was seeing.

“Mr. Milton, report.” Bancroft repeated, this time infused with more authority. This snapped Milton back to the present and he gave his analysis.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but if I am seeing this right I would wager what we are looking at is a nano tech warhead.”

“I thought nano tech only had medicinal applications?” Tolland asked as he stepped forward and joined Bancroft at the screen.

Milton nodded. “It is, but it can just as easily be repurposed like anything else.”

The large puddles of nano tech finally consumed the entire building and smashed into the street like a great tidal wave. Ken’darians began screaming in fear as it spread out rapidly and began latching on to other buildings and filling up the entire length of the street.

“They must have turned off the built in safety features and told the machines to devour anything and replicate.” Milton said as he continued watching the display. “Plastics, metal, concrete-“

“Flesh.” Tolland cut in as the camera feed showed an unlucky Ken’darian failing to flee fast enough from the onrushing tide of nano machines. The pools of the machines flowed around their feet and to Bancroft’s horror the poor Ken’darian was being pulled into the pool. Their flesh being eaten away by hundreds of thousands of machines as they screamed, twisting and thrashing violently trying to escape only to further spread the machines on to their body.

Tolland looked away as the layers of skin were removed one after another and the raw muscles were exposed as the Ken’darian finally expired and sank beneath the grey blob.

“Jesus….” Milton muttered softly.

“I don’t think he would be much help right now Mr. Milton.” Tolland replied, turning away from display feeds.

The tidal wave of machines swept past the camera and Bancroft watched as the feed carried on for a few moments more before the machine was torn to pieces by the tiny machines.

“That explains why they were so paranoid about it onboard.” Bancroft replied dryly. “If an ounce of this had gotten free we’d have all been dead within an hour.”

Mr. Milton scoffed in agreement but said nothing else.

“How long do they plan to let these machines run wild?” Bancroft asked Milton.

“They did not give me a timeframe sir,” he replied, “but I imagine they will let these little buggers run wild until there is nothing left on the world.”

Bancroft stood in silence and looked out into space again, seeking the calm once more.

“Bring up another feed.” He asked quietly.

“You don’t need to watch this, admiral.” Tolland said. “There’s no need for you to see such destruction.”

To his surprised Bancroft shook his head. “I unleashed this; I will not look away from it.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #writer #original writing

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spartanguard · 2 years

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most wanted (7/11) [CSSNS 2021]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Sorry to keep y'all waiting again—it's still been busy at work! BUT: this story is DONE! So the rest should go up in a timely manner. Thanks to the ladies in my Nano discord for all the support during April Camp that let me get this done! Eternal thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl and to @cssns for putting on the event each year. And thank you for your patience, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

The sun's rays had hardly crested the horizon when he rose with them; no surprise that he didn’t sleep in when he wasn’t on Granny’s plush beds. His ward, however, was still fast asleep and snoring—rather adorably, if he had to admit.

He looked over at her; at some point, she’d curled up on her side, facing him, and her lips were slightly parted. If things had gone differently, he would have been sorely tempted to wake her with a kiss, angelic as she looked. Instead, he was just sore, knowing the potential treachery behind that innocent facade.

Despite the tenuous peace they’d arrived at last night, he was still guarded when it came to her. Specifically, when it came to protecting his heart. He’d been through too much to let it get damaged again; even if it was tougher than it used to be, that didn’t mean he wanted to put it through undue abuse.

And, no matter what she said, she was still wanted for murder. Even if she was innocent, she was still in the periphery of that tragic event, which wasn’t a good look. (And considering Graham had no next of kin, it was up to Killian to see his death avenged.)

As if she could sense she was being watched—actually, given her upbringing, she probably could—her eyes fluttered open and found his. “Morning,” she said sleepily. “Do you always watch the people you’ve arrested sleep?”

A flirtatious quip threatened to escape, but he bit it back. “No; I was just lamenting the lack of Granny’s breakfast.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to remind me?” she groaned. “I mean, I could give it a shot if I had anything to cook, but I’m pretty sure her grill was magic—or just incredibly well seasoned.”

“Either are likely, I suppose.”

As it was, they noshed on a couple more sandwiches before packing up camp and heading out for the day. Both were fairly silent for the first hour or so, simply enjoying the sound of Roger’s footsteps among the waking forest noises and crisp morning air. A polite amount of distance was still kept in the saddle but yesterday’s hostility was mostly gone. Still—he wasn’t going to let Emma fall against him any time soon, and she clearly wasn’t about to on her own volition, either.

It was Emma who finally broke the morning stillness.

“What you said about your brother—how much of that was true?” she asked, calling back to their conversation by the docks.

“Most of it,” he answered. He’d long since learned to minimize the fiction in his lies; perhaps something she needed to figure out. “Like I said, we were sold into servitude together; he was a few years older, so it was up to him to look out for me. The crew certainly wasn’t going to. And then once we got out, it was straight into the Navy. He climbed the ranks a bit faster than me, though; he was incredibly smart. The last vessel I served aboard, he was the captain; I was his first mate and lieutenant.”

“But I thought you were a Captain?” she said, confused. “Or was that inaccurate, too?” Her voice was gently laced with accusation.

“No, I technically was—just not for very long,” he explained. “Liam died on that last mission. Was killed, being a bloody arrogant fool. So I assumed the title for our return trip, and went AWOL as soon as I was done reporting to command.”

“And then came the downward spiral?”

“Aye.” At least she’d sensed the truth in that. “Though nothing much came of it.”

“Does it ever?” she huffed.

“You’ve led more of a lawless life than me; I think you’d be better to answer that one.”

It was perhaps a cruel jab, but not entirely untrue; and he wasn’t about to divulge his entire life story without hearing any of hers.

Of course, that’s when they began to near another town and actually came across some morning traffic—as much as three horses and a couple carriages could be considered traffic—and they settled back into silence until potentially overhearing ears were gone.

“I only stayed in Storybrooke for a few years,” Emma started, “until I was 14 or 15. As much as Granny thought she was getting me on the straight and narrow, I was really just...perfecting my art,” she explained.

“Getting better at pickpocketing?”

“Yeah, that. I always returned everything, though, at least until the last grab. That’s when I ran away again.”

“Why?”

She paused for a minute—long enough to make him wonder if he was the first to ask that. “Well, you’ve seen Storybrooke. Even if I wanted a home, a family, I didn’t want that. I saw girls not much older than me getting married and starting families and if that was all that lay ahead, it wasn’t for me. So I ran off before anyone could try to tie me down again.”

“Ruby’s not married yet,” he pointed out.

“Only because her first fiance died.” Ah; that was a good counterpoint. “But she and her girlfriend probably will soon.” Then she sighed. “And I’m probably going to miss it. Dammit.”

There wasn’t much he could say in response to that, but it didn’t matter anyway as they were entering the town. “Lean against me,” he murmured, against his better judgment.

“What?” she hissed, stiffening contrarily.

“If you lean against me, I can hide the shackles from view,” he explained. “Unless you’d like people staring at the prisoner.” Really, he just wanted to avoid drawing undue attention—a loving couple stood out far less than a criminal in custody and her captor. He’d have avoided the town altogether, but the only alternate route would have added a day’s travel.

She didn’t comply right away, but quickly settled against him when she noticed someone working outside the first home on the edge of town. Killian didn’t hesitate to settle his arms over hers, covering her wrists from view.

As expected, the homeowner hardly gave them a glance, nor did the rest of the town. They easily blended in with the thickening crowd as they approached the town center, and Killian had to admit that it was far too easy to play the doting lover; he had to restrain himself from pressing a kiss to her temple.

Bloody hell, why had he even suggested this? It felt far too natural to hold her tight in his arms. It was hardly acting. Sure, he could play it off as a decoy to prevent any other bounty hunter from catching onto their trail and trying to claim the prize for their own (it did happen, though Killian had never done so, nor fallen victim to such a scheme), but that was a half truth at best.

At least they weren’t stopping—but they were only halfway through town and he was already regretting his decision.

It was impossible to tell from his position what Emma thought, but she also seemed to be playing her role with ease.

He could only hope she didn’t feel the racing pace of his heart for the duration of their shared contact.

(It was also at this point that he noticed the lighter-colored hair at the roots of her part; it was odd that he only noticed it then, but he supposed he was so desperate for a distraction that he was picking up on minutiae. At least this made it obvious she was concealing her natural hair color—which gave him a weird sense of relief that she had indeed been lying about one thing.)

After an agonizing amount of time, they finally found themselves on the other side of the town. Emma sat up straighter, putting space between them, nearly as soon as the road began to narrow, but Killian still waited for the village to be farther behind them before stopping.

Lunch was a quiet affair. He knew that he was wrestling with his conflicting thoughts towards Emma; it wasn’t as easy to see what kind of warring thoughts were going through her mind, but the furrow of her brow as she worked on her ham sandwich made it obvious she was at odds with herself over something.

Of course, the only reason he noticed was because he kept stealing glances at her like some lovelorn school boy—and the awkward moment when he looked over to find her staring back didn’t help matters at all. (Or the fact that they could only move a few feet apart, but he wasn’t ready to undo the longer shackle yet.)

He busied himself with organizing his saddlebag as she finished her meal—it was already pristine, but it was a distraction—so he didn’t think much of it when she wiped the crumbs off on her skirt and turned to face him.

“When is your birthday?” she asked.

He looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“I’m trying to break the ice, considering the last couple hours have been painfully awkward. Should I have gone with something harder, like your favorite color?”

Well, that had her desired effect; he chuckled, though he wasn’t sure if admitting he’d recently grown partial to a particular shade of green would help anything. “Actually, that one would be easier, since I’m not exactly sure of my birth date.”

“You’re not? How?”

He shrugged and closed the bag. “We never really celebrated when I was young, and any birth certificate I may have had is long gone. Liam remembered that it was shortly after Yuletime and there was snow on the ground, so as far as keeping track of my age, I just mark it as the first of the year.”

“That...was not something I expected us to have in common.”

“I thought you said you had your birth certificate?”

“I do, but the date is only an estimate. A close one, but I have no idea if it’s correct or not.”

“Well, what does it say, then?”

“October 23.” Still a couple months away, but one she’d likely spend incarcerated.

“Happy early birthday, then,” he said, since he probably wouldn’t get another chance.

“Thanks,” she said simply, and then hopped back up on the saddle. He followed her and she continued, “So what is your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he not-quite-lied as he kicked Roger into motion. “Like the sea.”

She hummed in agreement. “Mine’s red, like the sunset, or the leaves in the autumn.”

“An excellent choice.”

They continued to make similar smalltalk for the duration of the afternoon. Nothing terribly personal, nor deep—other favorites, childhood memories—but were it not for the consistent press of cold steel against his wrist, it would have felt like two (somewhat more than) friends out for a ride. Though Killian knew better than to let down his guard like that, he also knew he had the upper hand, as it were.

If anything, it made the time pass quicker. There were no other cities on their path until they reached Longbourn, nor anything more populated than the occasional homestead or caravan. In other words—a horrifically boring ride, save for the sounds of birdsong and whatever sea shanties he normally sang to himself.

There wasn’t another enchanted campsite like they’d stayed at the night before, but he still knew of one well enough off the beaten path to avoid notice; he actually had to get down and guide Roger there on foot. They reached it just before sunset and went about getting settled for the night. Even though they were still awkwardly attached at the wrist, they seemed to be enough in sync now to work together through any awkwardness. (Emphasis on the latter when it came to relieving themselves.)

Though this spot didn’t have a protection charm, it was equipped with an enchanted ember that constantly burned, making it easy to build a fire. They warmed their sandwiches (noting that there were only enough left for breakfast) and settled casually on a fireside log to eat and continue chatting—and discerning truth from fiction in what they’d already discussed in the past. (Other than her name, just about everything had been accurate—but perhaps she was better about keeping things vague than he was.)

“I’m guessing a crocodile didn’t actually eat your hand, then,” she asked when she was done eating. “Although I suppose that’s not incredibly far outside the realm of possibility.”

He chuckled lightly. “No, it wasn’t; though the man did look an awful lot like one.”

“A man ate it?”

“No, no...actually, I don’t know what he did with it. But his sword was much sharper than his teeth.”

Emma winced. “Ouch.”

“Aye, it had quite the bite.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but laughed. “Yeah, you’re definitely a dad with jokes like that.”

He gave another terrible wink.

“Just what did you do to piss this guy off?” she continued casually.

“I took his wife,” he answered, just as nonchalantly.

She nearly choked on her last bite of sandwich. “You what?” she gasped.

“All the things you’ve stolen, yet you balk at that?” he teased.

He could see her start to protest, but rethink her argument before she spoke.

He forged on. “It wasn’t so much theft as...we simply fell in love. I was still reeling from the loss of my brother; she was stuck in a loveless marriage. We met in a pub and it blossomed from there.” He stared into the fire, remembering. “We found ourselves at our lowest points, and looking back, I don’t know that we entirely lifted each other up, but we definitely helped each other. Until her husband found out, of course.”

“He took your hand?” Emma was incredulous.

“And then some.” He swallowed. “He killed her.”

Emma’s breath hitched. “So she really did die,” she added quietly.

He couldn’t fault her for wondering—he had a handful of similar questions about their conversations from their time in Storybrooke. But that didn’t stop the stutter his heart gave at the memory. “Aye,” he eventually answered. “Slide my sleeve up,” he directed, offering his right wrist to indicate which one.

She did carefully, and he tried not to focus on the gentleness of her fingers as she revealed the tattoo on his forearm. A jagged-looking dagger struck through a heart, and ribbon over the top bore the name Milah.

He jumped when her finger began to trace it, but again, she was almost reverent in her caress and study of the image. Somehow for the first time, he noticed her own ink—a flower on the underside of her left wrist. He was about to ask about hers, but then she surprised him with her next question.

“Is that the Dark One’s dagger?”

“You know it?” Though the legend of the man who was once referred to as the Dark One was known around the realm, few knew many details about the infamous criminal—unless they had close calls with the demon and his weapon of choice, such as Killian had. (Several times.)

Emma nodded. “Neal...he’s his son.”

“Neal?” Oh no.

“My ex, I guess. The one who framed me.”

“Bloody hell.” Of all the similarities they’d thus discovered in their lives, this connection was not one he anticipated. “Milah was Neal’s mum.”

“Shit.”

A heavy silence descended on them for what felt like an interminable amount of time. If Killian’s emotions had been a tangle before then, they were truly a convoluted mess now. “What are the odds?” he finally commented, but his tone was humorless.

“Shit,” she cursed again, then stood and began to pace, unceremoniously taking his wrist with her. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” He jumped up to join her, but bit back the “love” that normally would have ended that sentence.

She turned to face him and looked up, horrorstruck. “He killed the wrong guy,” she whispered.

“Who...what?” he stammered.

“Neal. He thought he was going after the man who took his mom and ruined his family. But...it wasn’t him.” She buried her face in her hands and was visibly taking deep breaths.

This was too genuine a reaction for her to fake. He moved closer and began to rub a hand down her arm in what he hoped was a calming motion. But he was still slightly lost. “I need you to go back a bit; can you tell me what happened before that? Why were you with Neal and why did he go after Graham?”

She dropped her arms and huffed. “You want the long story or the short one?”

“I don’t have any other plans.”

“Okay, but you should probably sit back down; it might take a while.”

He obliged, and she returned to her seat next to him. And began her tale:

They’d met rather inauspiciously—she stole the wagon he was sleeping in…which he’d already stolen. But she fell hard and fast, and they began thieving and running across the kingdom, starting small but eventually getting more daring. They continued to gain notoriety and skill—“And, honestly, we kind of felt untouchable. No one could catch us.”

“Hard to catch them when you’re looking for a female instead of a feline.”

She laughed a bit and looked down at her shackled wrists, brushing her tattoo with her opposite thumb. “I actually had that skill before I met him. When Ruby first started her transformation, she got lonely; so we paid a visit to the witch in town and she did this,” she explained, nodding at the ink. “It’s what lets me transform.”

“That’s awfully clever,” he had to admit.

“Neal thought so, too. It definitely got us out of some close calls. And everything was going great, right up until the day he came home, shouting that he’d finally found him.”

Killian’s bounty hunter instincts wanted to ask just where “home” was, but he held them back. “Found who?”

“The pirate who stole his mother away,” she said wryly, glancing up through her lashes. Heat grew under Killian’s cheeks. “He’d rant about it occasionally—list all the things he’d do to the man who broke his family apart if he ever found him. I’d usually just nod and laugh until the day he claimed he’d found him. Then…gods, I was right to be scared.”

Killian had known Milah had a child when she ran away with him—the lad would have been in his early teens when she left, if that—and it pained her to leave him behind, but at the very least, she trusted her husband to raise him right. That was before the man had gotten involved in darker, less-savory pursuits; perhaps it was no surprise the boy had grown up on such a similarly less-than-ideal path, with half-truths told to him about his mother’s actual fate. Still—it was disheartening to learn his own actions had potentially put into play a subsequently damaging series of events that, in a way, led them here.

He couldn’t dwell on that now, though; there would be time enough for brooding later. “What did he do?”

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she explained. “He planned a sting, more or less; we were genuinely after some stuff—some jewels belonging to one of the rich townsfolk—but Neal wanted to do it clumsily, so the sheriff—the man he thought it was—would show up.”

Graham had been the sheriff in a village outside Longbourn for quite some time; he and Killian had worked together many a time, and he was in fact the one who connected him with Nemo (after yet another drunk and disorderly arrest), setting him on a path out of his own darkness. He was one of the best men Killian had known—dedicated to keeping his town safe and looking out for his loved ones.

Suffice to say, he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of learning the details of his friend’s death. But he knew he needed to.

“And it worked,” he added, knowingly.

“Yeah. Probably too well. Should have expected the sheriff wouldn’t take long to notice a break-in at the mayor’s house. And it’s not like we were subtle—we weren’t exactly quiet, and we lit just about every lantern we could find.” It was easy for Killian to see where this was going. “So he bursts in, sword aloft, and Neal didn’t waste any time leveling his pistol at him. I was too focused on clearing out the safe to really pay attention to what they were saying—until the gun went off.”

Killian’s breath hitched at that, making her look up at him and grab his hand.

“I swear, I didn’t know he was going to murder him,” she effused. “I knew Neal was angry; he blamed this guy for his mom leaving and his dad becoming…what he did; he was even upset that he arrested his dad. Gods—and he was so wrong,” she added, running a hand down her face in disbelief.

“Well—not entirely; Graham did help arrest the Dark One, too.” He chuckled sadly. “Probably why he got confused.”

“Oh, right,” she realized, glancing at his prosthesis; it was no secret that Captain Hook had led the charge in taking down the Dark One. “I know what we were doing wasn’t right, but what his dad did was worse—all those people he killed? He deserved to be captured. And that’s what gets me: we had promised we weren’t going to do anything that bad. Even if we were breaking the law, we weren’t really hurting anyone. And then Neal shot your friend—right in the chest. It wasn’t even in defense; the guy hadn’t moved. I stopped what I was doing and ran over to him, trying to staunch the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do.”

Her voice caught at the end of her statement, and he could see tears—genuine ones—brimming at her eyes. He found himself having to look away—though whether it was to conceal his own reaction to Graham’s demise, or his response to hers, he wasn’t sure. “And then?” he asked, then winced; his voice betrayed any emotion he was trying to hide.

She sighed. “Like I said, I couldn’t do anything to help. He went too fast. I yelled at Neal, asking why he did that—why he went that far. He tried to say I wouldn’t understand, since I never had parents; I told him that didn’t make it right and I wasn’t afraid to turn him in; there was no going back or escaping from that. Then he turned the gun on me, spewing all kinds of bile—how I was just a lost little orphan who’d never understand what family meant, how he knew he could take advantage of me because of it—how he never loved me.” She took a deep breath before finishing. “By then, the gun was practically in my face, so I transformed and made for the nearest window. He tried to shoot at me, but missed; it was enough to startle me, though, and I knocked an oil lamp into the window curtains. I got out quick and just ran, as fast and far as I could. And then I saw the wanted posters a few days later. I wasn’t all that shocked he tried to pin it on me, but you know what hurt worse?”

“What?”

“He couldn’t even get my eye color right,” she almost whispered. “At least it proved he hadn’t lied about never loving me; he hadn’t even taken the time to notice that. And it made it that much easier to just dye my hair and go on the lam. Which was going great, until you showed up.”

“My apologies,” he offered, only half meaning it.

“You’re just doing your job; I can’t fault you there,” she waved off. “And I certainly haven’t stayed on the right side of the law. I just didn’t do all of that.”

“No,” he replied. “I don’t think you did.”

“You believe me?” She seemed surprised.

He didn’t blame her; he was slightly surprised himself. But he told her as he began to fish around in his pockets, “Aye; I do. I’ve heard many, many sob stories over the years and heard many tall tales.” He found what he was looking for and pulled it out. “Yours was one of the few that were genuine.” Then he reached for her wrist and unlocked both sets of shackles.

Emma’s mouth hung open in shock, even as she flexed and rotated the likely stiffness from her wrists. “Really?”

“Yes; though I hope you don’t mind if I keep the other one there,” he confirmed, nodding at the magic-blocking cuff. “You are still technically in custody.”

“No, I get that,” she said, nodding. “I…wow. Thank you. Not many people believe me anymore.” He was about to comment on that fact when she went on. “I know, I know—hazard of my job. Both of ours, I guess. I just…I appreciate it.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” It was as much a warning as a confession.

“I won’t,” she promised. And he believed her.

Fatigue quickly got the best of them, so they turned in, calmly sharing the blanket this time though still back-to-back.

As he drifted off, his thoughts lingered on their conversation. Fate sure had a sense of humor, he decided, to intertwine their lives so much. He wasn’t exactly complaining, though.

But tonight’s revelations brought about another problem: if Emma was truly innocent of murder, how did they clear her name of that charge—and how long would it take him to track down the actual culprit?

(He chose to ignore the hopeless romantic side of him that was far too hopeful for a renewed chance at a happy ending for them.

He also consciously ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind that still questioned her.)

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